


Fallen Star

by Alessgrosskid (thatonegrosskid)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brown Harry Potter, Coping with Grief, Hogwarts Second Year, M/M, Severitus, Trans Male Character, archive warnings added as they apply, au- harry potter is not harry potter, breakdowns and panic attacks galore, brown severus snape, depressed severus, grey/dark harry, harry's name is not harry, no mpreg we stan a trans king, relationships to be added as they appear so i dont accidently bait anyone, these boys need a therapist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonegrosskid/pseuds/Alessgrosskid
Summary: Severus Snape was no stranger to mourning. At a young age, he mourned his childhood, at 9 he mourned the young girl the world though he was, at 14 his mother, 20 his lover and 21 his best friend, his child and his freedom. He was tired of mourning. He was tired of war. He was tired of being angry. He was tired of being alone.And one day, he wasn't.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Poppy Pomfrey & Severus Snape, Regulus Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	1. A Sad Man's Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes i wrote like 5 pages of rambley ideas for this and lksadjfskl now I'm writing it, i guess. another excuse for me to write like a fool and say its a narrative device.
> 
> warning for major self hate and unhealthy thoughts from severus and harry so be wary of that if you know it can effect you badly.

Severus Snape was no stranger to mourning. At a young age, he mourned his childhood, at 9 he mourned the young girl the world though he was, at 14 his mother, 20 his lover and 21 his best friend, his child and his freedom. He was tired of mourning. He was tired of war. He was tired of being angry. He was tired of being alone. Of spending every day confronted with the face of the man who ruined his school days, the eyes and smile of his best friend, the child who lived while his burned. It tore him apart more than any dark lord or insane old man. 

He knew very well that he treated the boy like dirt, treated the rest of the student body almost as bad, that it wasn't fair. He was almost universally hated among students, and why wouldn't he be? He was bitter and cruel, a bully just like his father. He was full of anger and sadness and something dark and heavy that boiled over constantly and seemed unending. In the end, no matter what he did, what side he was on, who he saved, he was rotten on the inside and he’d always known it. He didn't deserve to be looked up to. He didn't deserve help. He didn't deserve love. He didn't deserve to be saved. He didn't deserve his chil-

That was where his inner mantra was cut off, making him drop his cauldron scrubbing brush. He turned from his workstation to see a paper plane notification from poppy, unfolding and falling on a nearby desk while he dried off his hands. 

_ Severus, _

_ I realize this is short notice, but a student will need an emergency ritual done to remove foreign magics from his body and I will need to commandeer your stores of rosemary, angels trumpet and fox hairs for at least the next 18 hours. This is extremely time sensitive, as whatever is affecting him is draining his magic rapidly and has been for weeks now. Please, hurry.  _

_ Poppy Pomfrey _

Severus frowned, already moving to collect his containers of each ingredient and ritual chalk just in case the infirmary was running low. It was rare that any kind of ritual was performed on a student in the school, they were typically sent out to St.Mungos, headmaster in tow. It was almost stranger that he had gotten no word from the man himself about the ritual, Dumbledore seemingly insistent on keeping him by his side during emergencies like this, as though any child would be comforted by his presence in their moments of weakness. 

Gathering together his containers, Severus took his hair out of its messy bun and pulled his outer robes back on, wanting to present some semblance of professionalism. He rushed out, robes sweeping behind him in a way that made told any soul unlucky enough to be in the halls that night not to bother him. At the door to the infirmary, he was about to make his way in when the door swung half way open, a very frazzled and stressed Poppy reaching out quickly for the ingredients. 

“Pomfrey, are you alright?” He asked despite himself, very rarely seeing the mediwitch this undone. 

“Oh, I’m quite fine, Severus,” she smiled, exhausted, ” Just trying to stop a student from dying is all.”

“Isn’t Dumbledore in there helping?” She sounded like she was doing this all herself.

“I- No. No he’s not,” She looked back into the ward, frowning, “The boy was delirious, insistent that I not tell the headmaster about what was going on. In my haste to get him stabilized, I had no time to call for him and honestly? At this point calling for him would only complicate the ritual.”

“Well, I may not be a healer, but I’ve done my fair share of impromptu healing and rituals, I can help you.” He huffed, at this point concerned despite himself. 

“That’s uncharacteristically kind of you, Severus, but I’m sure the child would appreciate it if I finished this alone,” She moved further back into the room, grip tightening on the door, “I promise, if anything happens, you’ll be the first I call for. Have a good night.”

Pomfrey shut the door in his face, evidently to rush back to whatever student had been in such danger. Beneath his irritation at being shut out, Severus felt a sting of worry in his chest, knowing very well how bad a child had to be to require such immediate treatment. He pushed it down, walking quickly back to the dungeons. Pomfrey seemed confident she could handle it, she always could. As per usual, he wasn’t needed. 

  
  


Harry Potter was no stranger to unconsciousness. He’d been knocked out so many times it felt like a blessing, but this? This was horrible. The longer he stayed, trapped in the dark, the weaker he felt, the more tired, the more in pain. It was awful. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, but he could feel someone holding on to him, cold arms wrapped around him like they were seeping his warmth, pulling him further into the dark. 

God, he never should have trusted Tom. 

  
  


Severus finished scrubbing down his personal cauldrons and reorganizing his stores late in the night, stretching the kinks from his back and pinching his lips together, looking out at his pristine classroom. He’d graded all his papers, cleaned his office and classroom and now had no more reason to keep himself up. He supposed he could patrol the castle for a few hours, catch some 5th years who’d snuck out after curfew, 7th years who insisted the middle of the night was the time to attempt a cure for their juvenile lusts. However, he knew there were likely other teachers and ghosts already meandering around the castle that he had no want or intention of interacting with.

Sighing, he locked everything up and made his way to his chambers, pulling his hair back up as he walked and glaring down at any paintings that dared to look at him. He was planning on pouring himself the last of the coffee he’d made that afternoon and falling straight to bed, not caring enough to deal with any hygiene matters. His chambers were dark, he knew them well enough to make it into his kitchen in the dark, tell he had no coffee left and pad into his bedroom, letting his robes and shoes pile on the ground. Curling in on himself, Severus didn’t fall asleep for another 2 hours.

  
  


Pomona Pomfrey was panicking.

  
  


Harry was suddenly torn from the cold, the arms around him vanishing as he was thrust into  _ heat _ , the darkness suffocating him. It hurt, it hurt so bad, like he was being turned inside out or his skin was being peeled off. The heat got more and more intense, all he could hear was roaring like a flame, and something moving in the very outside of his consciousness. It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurtithurtit _hurtithurtithurt_

God, he just wanted Tom back. 


	2. A Sad Man's Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revelation comes and Severus has the first of many breakdowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey basing severus's breakdowns on my own and that means really fast awful thoughts and a lot of sobbing, followed by a few hours/a day or numbness.
> 
> it may seem like things are moving fast, but thats only because... I can't write :3c

Harry Potter felt like he was burning, like his skin was bubbling and peeling from the heat, exposing his nerves. Harry Potter was suffering. Harry Potter was drowning. Harry Potter was trying desperately to scream in the darkness. 

Harry Potter could see. 

His eyes flung open and he saw nothing, thrust back into consciousness before he knew what was going on. Then bright light flashed, blinding him momentarily, before fading into the orange sunlight streaming into the infirmary, cold air a godsend after the burning darkness. For a golden moment, he could see Madam Pomfrey above him, eyes wide, but he was pulled back into the darkness, this time, truly unconscious.

  
  


Madam Pomfrey feared she was in deep shit. 

Ronald had brought her Harry Potter the previous night, the boy delirious and insisting that she not notify the headmaster about his state, magic draining dangerously fast. She had been so wrapped up in trying to keep the boy from  _ dying  _ she hadn’t gotten to calling for the headmaster, only remembering to do so when Severus came to her door to give her the ingredients she needed. Even then, looking down at the boy, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore his request, spending the next 18 hours watching him sweat and squirm and writhe in obvious pain.

It took 6 hours for whatever was leeching off the boy to be removed,and Poppy foolishly thought the rest of the ritual would be easy on the boy, no foreign magic left to purge from him. She was quite wrong. Very soon, she began to notice something wrong. In his thrashing, she saw changes in the boy, his skin darkening and changing tone, his hair straightening and tangling as he moved. She desperately went over what she had done, unable to stop the ritual, trying to find any mistake, any miscalculation, any explanation to why the boy-who-lived was suddenly a different boy entirely. 

As the hours went on and the boys exhaustion slowed and stopped his thrashing, his sweat soaking the sheets, she could watch the changed uninhibited. He groaned in pain as his body seemed to finish growing, a few inches at least, and his face became sharper. He was panting and shivering, and finally, as afternoon light streamed in through her windows, he quieted. 

Taking her chance, the ritual finally over, Poppy cast a diagnostic charm, trying to assess whatever she had done wrong. Receiving the report, she frowned. That couldn’t be right. So she tried again. And again. And again. But it always said the same thing. 

Before she could make a final attempt to make sure she had things right, Harry bolted upright in the bed, eyes opened wide, not bright green, but dark, terrified grey, before they rolled back and he fell against the bed, silent. 

She dropped her arm, any thoughts of diagnostics charms flying from her mind. She ran out, placing a privacy ward around the boy’s bed and locking the door behind her, praying Dumbledore wouldn’t pay any impromptu visits. She needed to get Severus. 

  
  


Severus Snape was finished with his day of classes and his fifth cup of coffee, resisting the urge to scrub the cauldrons for the day, knowing he had detentions that night. Despite his high caffeine intake and inability to sleep, he felt exhausted, needed something monotonous to distract him from the awful, empty feeling that filled him. Instead, he looked over the potions turned in during his last class, sneering at one that had been decanted far too quickly, creating a crack in the glass. He frowned, making a mark on the student’s paper to take off points for a mistake no honours student should make. 

His observing and note taking was soon interrupted though, by very hastily put together Madam Pomfrey, entering his office without invitation. Typically impromptu visits from the nosey matron were to insure he had digested anything other that coffee and tea that day or to force him to sleep at night, under threat of her telling the headmaster something was wrong. This time, however, she seemed completely uninterested in his own well being.

“Severus, I apologize for the sudden entrance,” She forced herself to give a thin, polite smile, “but I’m afraid I’ll need your  _ quiet  _ assistance with the student I told you about last night.”

She looked exhausted, like she had just spent 19 hours trying to keep a child alive, and had come to him immediately. It made Severus supremely curious and supremely nervous about what exactly she needed help with that she didn’t want getting out. 

"Poppy, what's going on?" He asked, moving towards her, grabbing a handful of calming draughts from under his desk. 

"I just need your  _ professional  _ advice on a matter," she spotted and gratefully took a bottle from his hands, tucking it away into her robes, "I'm afraid something has gone wrong and we would hate to interrupt the headmaster about something like this on such a nice day."

Severus knew very well that Poppy, despite her light leaning and trust in the man, knew that some things were best dealt with your of Dumbledore's line of sight. Regardless of his image and reputation, you don't work with Dumbledore for more than 3 decades without learning when to keep him out of the loop. Her constant mother henning was irritating at best, but at least he knew she could be trusted. 

He nods and puts away his notes, following Poppy through the halls in silence, either completely ignoring or staring down any child who dared to look his way. The matron was uncharacteristically quiet, usually speaking quietly as she walked, to herself or her companions. Luckily for the both of them, children seldom sought either of them out unless they were needed.

Severus covertly looked down both sides of the hall as Poppy undid the wards around the infirmary, putting them back up as they walked in. She seemed nervous, looking to an occupied bed further into the room. “Poppy, if you need my help, I’d need to actually know what’s going on,” He tried to prompt her, getting a withered look for his trouble. 

“This way, Severus,” she waved him along to the occupied bed, taking down the privacy ward. “This is the child I needed your help with.”

Severus looked down at the child and had to pause, staring down at him. His high cheekbones, dark hair (whose tangles made it look far curlier that it must have really been), the cool expression on the unconscious boys face. It sent a shock of pain through his heart. They boy reminded him so much of Regulus, it was unreal. There was something else in his face as well, something so familiar that Severus just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Trying to past his pain, he looked at the boy, trying to place his face among his students, but he came up empty. “Who is this child? I don’t recognize him,” he asked Poppy, though his voice seemed odd. 

Poppy placed a hand on his shoulder, understanding his sudden quiet, one of four people alive to know of him and Regulus’s relationship, “That’s the problem, Severus. This boy came into my care as Harry Potter.”

Severus’s brows knit together, looking from Poppy to the boy disbelieving, ”It must have been polyjuice or some glamour or-”.

“Any glamour would have fallen with how weak he was, Polyjuice wouldn’t have lasted the 6 hours it took for him so start changing and any enchanted items would still be on him, and that scar?” She huffed, resisting the urge to run a finger down the scar lacing over his forehead and eyelid like a strike of lighting, “The first thing I did after laying him down was run a diagnostic charm and it came out with Harry James Potter on the top of the page. Try running one now.”

Severus looked at the boy, his blood cold for a reason he couldn’t place. He closed his eyes to run the charm, having performed it enough times to not need them open and honestly, being afraid of the results. When he opened his eyes, it took his a second to grab the parchment and really comprehend the words he read. 

**Ursa Elijah Snape-Black**

**Age: 12**

**Status: Suffering Magical Exhaustion**

**Injuries: no current injuries**

**Conditions-**

No decade of spying or experience standing at the dark lord’s side could have stopped him from nearly falling over at the sight of the parchment. He couldn’t breath. His whole body was cold. He felt numb. He couldn’t think. He absently looked to the boy’s, to Ursa’s face, eyes drawn to his sudden movement as he twitched and groaned. He opened his eyes, hazy and unfocused, but so clearly, painfully, the same dark, cool grey Severus took solace in during his school years, in the war. And he couldn’t do it. 

Severus ran away, the last things he heard from the room, shouting from Pomfrey and a confused ‘Professor?’

  
  


Harry Potter did not feel very much like Harry Potter. He felt achey, sore and strange in his core, he reached up to touch his head and his hair felt like a rats nest. But like, different from his usual rats nest. He saw Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape above him for a split second before Snape disappeared and Pomfrey shouted after him, looking worried. 

He could only vaguely remember coming into the ward, vision fading in and out while Ron rushed him over. After it was only darkness and pain. Swallowing and clearing his throat, he looked up to Madam Pomfrey, “Mam’, how long have I been here?” 

“Since yesterday evening, Mr,” She paused, looking at him with a tight face,”Potter, and while I’ve removed whatever was siphoning your magic, I’m afraid we have an entirely new mystery to solve.”

Harry frowned, mind drawing a blank before it clicked. Tom! He’d been allowing the Diary to siphon his magic to keep him stable and to stop him from hurting anyone else. They’d gotten into some stupid fight that afternoon and apparently Tom decided to try and  _ kill him  _ to get the last word, the utter prick. Pushing down his irritation and promising to deal with it later, he thought about what Pomfrey had said. “Wait, what’s wrong now?”

She looked at him, frowning, deliberating what to say. "The ritual you went through was made to remove any trace of foreign magic from your body. Not just the leech, but any glamours, potions, blood magic,  _ anything _ would have been removed,” Summoning a small mirror, she held it out to him, “It seems after everything was removed, you changed a bit.”

Harry looked into the mirror, expecting a new scar or pink hair or something he could laugh off. He did not expect to be a different person. His hair was a mess, but he could tell it was straighter than he’d ever seen it, his face angular because of his bone structure and not malnutrition, his scar standing out  _ differently  _ than usual, pale against less golden and more pinkish dark skin. His eyes-

He’d spent his whole life staring into bright green eyes, curse green eyes, his mothers eyes, and for a moment he almost saw a shadow of them in his reflection. Instead, they were a dark, almost black, grey. They seemed to suck him in, making it so he couldn’t look away, could barely comprehend he was looking at himself and not some trick or a joke. He touched his face, felt his scar, watched his hand more in his reflection. It took a long while for him to be able to speak. 

“Madam Pomfrey, what,” He breathed heavily, too shocked to panic, “What happened?”

The matron was quiet for a long moment, looking at him with sad, worried eyes, “That, Harry, is a question better left for Professor Snape.”

Harry frowned. Why would Snape know anything about this? He only saw him for a moment when he woke up and the man seemed completely uninterested or downright spiteful towards anything regarding him. “Why him, mam?” He’d only just woken up and he felt tired.

“If I understand what’s going on, I’m not the person to explain it. He is.” She nodded finally, “As much as I want you to stay here and rest, as you should, I feel that going down to speak with Professor Snape is more important at the moment.” She helped Harry to stand, his new height throwing him off, and lead him out the door, making sure no one was in the halls when he left. With a final ‘tell that man to come see me as soon as he can’, Harry was off, just as confused as he was when he woke up.

Severus Snape was not okay.

As soon as he got into his office, he slammed the door, dropping himself against the desk like he was dead weight, mind firing off miles faster than he could actually think. The one thought that pushed its way through the rest, not that his son was evidently alive, not that he wouldn't be alone anymore, not that maybe he could be fucking happy, was that he was just. Like. His.  _ Father.  _ He was cruel and bitter, taking out his anger on not just children, but  _ Ursa. _ His own child. His flesh and blood. All he had left. He already knew he was irredeemable but this sealed it. He should just end it now, there was no going deeper into his own rotten being. 

He was awful, despicable, he thought, fat, bitter tears falling without his permission, he probably would have been  _ worse  _ if he had gotten to raise Ursa, knowing himself. He’s put the boy through hell the two years he’s known him and now he’s cursed him with the knowledge that they were  _ family.  _ He realized now the familiarity he saw in the boys face, that was his nose, his eye shape, his skin. He’d ruined that child’s life in more ways than he could count and he wouldn’t blame Ursa if he never wanted to see him again, if he wanted him dead and gone. 

In his wallowing, head buried in his desk, shaking like a child, Severus didn’t hear the door open. He had barely caught the quiet ‘professor?’ when he turned abruptly, shooting a death glare at whoever had dared to walk into his office. As soon as he registered who it was that had interrupted his breakdown, his face crumbled. 

“Get out of my office,  _ Potter. _ ” He hissed, feeling his chest grow tight at his own tone. 

He could see Ursa _ Harry's  _ face scrunch up in anger or defiance, he didn’t know and didn’t care. The sooner the boy left his sight the better. 

“Professor, Madam Pomfrey sent me down here,” he frowned, face pulling into a sneer severus recognized every time he deigned to look in the mirror, “She said you could explain what was going on.”

Of course she would. Severus huffed, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this, wiping his face as nonchalantly as he could, “ _ Fine  _ Come sit here.” he pulled out a chair in front of his desk, moving to sit behind it, putting some separation between him and the boy. At the very least, he owed him the truth. When the boy was sat, watching him with still tired eyes, he began. “If the evidence is to be believed, you are-” he sighed, “My son. Ursa Elijah Snape-Black.”

He felt like he was watching himself in third person, “Your father and I were together in the middle of the war. One day he went out on a mission and never came back, and soon after, I learned I was pregnant.” Severus’ eyes seemed to glaze over, “I wanted to keep my child, more than  _ anything _ , but after you were born everything got so much  _ worse.  _ The war was in full swing and I couldn’t keep you safe. So when you were almost a year old, I gave you up, at least until it was safe.

“I had a childhood friend, Lily. She and her husband James took you in, promising to treat you as well as they did their own child, Harry.” His whole body was tense, trying to hold himself together, “Pomfrey and Dumbledore were the only other people who knew you existed, much left who I had left you with. So that Halloween, when we were alerted someone had attacked the potter home-”

Severus’s head fell into his hands, curling in on himself, “I was the first there. I saw the fire spread. I saw their bodies. I-” he couldn’t breath, “I saw two cribs, one  _ surrounded by flames  _ and one with  _ you. _ And you looked so much like them I. I. I  _ mourned  _ my  _ child- _ ” He could barely feel his lips still moving, rambling on while his mind turned to dust. His heart felt like it was going to explode, his tears falling once more, fingers tangling into his hair. His office fell away around him, his mind caught in the fire, staring into a burning nursery, his life falling apart around him and it was  _ his fault it was always his fault he DID THIS _ . 

He felt hands on him, and for a moment, his mind cycled through the worst possible scenarios, fear gripping him as he turned, wide eyed to see his son stood beside him. His own cheeks were tracked with tears, or fear or sadness, he couldn’t tell. But there he was beside him, trying to, what, help? 

“Professor, I don’t know how to help you,” he heard as his panic died down for the time being into a post-breakdown numbness, ”I just woke up and I’m still exhausted. I don’t want to be rude or seem like I don’t care, but this is a lot at once and you don’t seem okay.” The boy seemed on the verge of his own break down, making Severus feel all the worse.

He tried his best to breath, pushing down the avalanche of Not Okay that threatened to bury him, if only for the child’s sake, standing. “I just need a moment,” he said, moving to grab an old thermos from across the room, pouring himself a cup of tea with shaking hands. “If you couldn’t tell, this is a bit of a shock for all involved.” that was the understatement of his life, but if he was going to get through this he needed to push down as many of these feelings as he could. He wiped his face once more, frowning at his still moist sleeves from the last time he had done so.

Ursa nodded, watching him warily, not trusting his sudden calm appearance. “So. Lily and James. They were your friends?” The boy asked, trying not to set him back off. 

Severus huffed, taking a drink, “No. Lily and I were friends,” he smiled bitterly, “James was a bully during our school years and I’m sure as adults he could have never seen me again and been fine with it. Lily was the one who wanted me around.”

Ursa looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. “So,” The boy bit his lip, looking to the ground, “If you had me, who was my father?” He could tell he was holding back on any questions that were too invasive, and he felt a wave of gratefulness.

Putting down his tea, Severus thought for a moment. While his mind insisted on tormenting him with thoughts of those he’d lost, he didn’t think about Regulus often. Not that he didn’t want to or he didn’t care, it was just too much for him to handle most of the time. However, he thought, looking towards the bottom drawer of his desk, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold close to his little reminders. He knew he had at least a few hours after breakdowns like that before anything feel real again, he might as well do something  _ good  _ while he had the chance. 

Making a decision, he used his wand to unlock the drawer, pushing past letter and photographs to pull out a small photo album. 


	3. A Hated Miscellany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many a small things, all working towards a large issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Hate. This chapter. i really tried to make it work, but i hate it. hopefully soon I can re write it but i really didn't want to end January without updating so please take this! happy new years! if you see any obvious messups/mispellings in the chapter, please tell me!
> 
> also, if you like my writing feel free to send me a prompt on my curiouscat! I promise I wont take a month to write it! curiouscat.me/princelyhannibal !

Harry Potter watched as Professor Snape pulled a small photo album from his desk drawer, face strangely void of any signs of his episode from earlier. Harry was no stranger to panic and anxiety attacks, he’d had his fair share of breakdowns and meltdowns and knew how much they took out of someone. But Snape looked like nothing had happened, his cheeks dried and hair falling back into place fairly easily. His eyes seemed tired and empty, but thinking about it, they always sort of did.

“I’ve kept this album since I was a child,” Snape murmured, opening it in the middle, completely skipping the first chunk of pages, “So I would prefer you not ruin it.” 

He turned the album around so he could see it better. The page the professor had opened had two pictures on it, one still image of Snape as a teenager along with a red headed girl, sitting under a tree. The other was a magical photo of him in his school robes, sitting on a fountain with a blond boy about his age, 2 older, identical boys smiling at the camera and a boy that looked a bit younger than the rest. Harry pointed to the girl, “Was that my-, i mean, is that-” He wasn’t sure how to ask anymore, given recent revelations.

“Yes. That was Lily Evans,” Snape's eyes were stuck on the page, his voice quiet and muddled, “it’s natural to still think of her as your mother, don’t worry about it.”

“What was she like?” in the photo she was smiling bright out at the camera, arm slung around Snape, books littered around them. They looked happy. 

“Brilliant,” He answered immediately, “She was smart and kind, always willing to lend a helping hand. She was also headstrong and brave, explosive, never picked fights but was quick to finish them.”

“So,” he looked to the other photo, looking over the boys. He could tell which one was Severus, the blond was undoubtedly malfoy’s father, so that left the twins and the younger boy, “Which is my dad?”

Snape pointed to the younger boy, “Regulus Black. He was the youngest of our little group, two years behind me.”

“What was he like?” The more Harry looked at him, the more he recognized the face he had seen in the mirror earlier.

“He was,” Snape seemed to think for a moment, “Quiet. Always listening. He hated loud noises, was always the first to try and deescalate fights and arguments. He stood up for what he believed in, even when he knew it wouldn’t do any good.” 

Harry was silent for a moment. He wasn’t gonna lie, Regulus sounded a lot like him. Even when he was loud and rushing into danger, he wasn’t stupid. He’d learned early on to listen to what was going on, to get right (more or less) the facts. He didn’t put much effort into deescalating, it rarely worked where he was concerned, but maybe Regulus was just better than him. “Do you have any other pictures of him?”

For the next hour, they flipped through the photo album, Snape only speaking to answer questions or give context for pictures. The whole thing was strangely hypnotic, learning about parents he never knew he had, pulling Harry in as if everything that had happened was miles away. Snape seemed to come back a bit more as they went, voice getting clearer as he spoke, looking between the album and Harry. When the album ran out, they stayed silent, both thinking over everything that had happened, trying to sort out their minds. Snape was the first to break the silence, standing.

“come here, Harry,” he motioned towards himself. Harry complied, feeling weird to be called his own name, and stood in front of the man. Snape took hold of the back of his robes, feeling around the inside for a moment. Harry stiffened, trying to fight the urge to bolt before Snape removed his hand with a mumbled ‘I should have warned you’. The professor held his hand in front of Harry’s face, showing a curly dark brown hair that had been stuck in Harry’s robes before the ritual. 

He turned, moving to the back of his office and digging through a cabinet, before finding a small bottle and dropping the hair in. He held it out, nodding for Harry to take it, and sat back down at his desk, pouring himself another cup of tea. 

“Luckily for us both I’ve kept around pre-prepared polyjuice for-” he sneered, “Extenuating circumstances. Drink half of the bottle now and the last of it when it starts to wear off. By that time I’ll have found a way to hide your new appearance.” Snape drank his tea quietly, not looking at Harry. 

“Is- Is there-” harry fumbled for his words, “Is there something wrong with how I look now?” He knew it was a stupid question when he said it, didn’t know why the man’s avoidance seemed to hurt just then. He looked away, hoping Snape hadn’t heard him. 

A long moment of silence hung between them, tense in all the worst ways. When Harry finally got the nerve to look at his professor, he saw him staring at him blankly. It almost felt weird, but with how the rest of his day was going, he didn’t think it counted. His staring back did seem to snap Snape out of it though. 

“You look,” He sighed, “Very much like your father. It’s not a bad thing. Regulus used to say that if we had a child, he’d hoped it would take after me, but you’ve truly proved him wrong.” His mouth twisted painfully and Harry felt bad for ever asking. He may not like professor Snape, but he knew that look well enough not to wish it on another. His aunt would look at him like that sometimes, when he dared to look her in the eye, and Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid had a similar look, if softer. “Either way, we don’t want anyone finding out about this, so we need you to look like it never happened. That’s why the polyjuice potion.”

Harry nodded, clutching the bottle in his hands. Knowing he would have to leave soon, he took the initiative to drink the first half now, shuddering at the change. He felt like his insides were boiling, his skin burning, bringing him back to that darkness. Harry knew he was conscious, Snape was right beside him, he could still see the office around him, but it took a long moment for his mind to catch up to logic. 

When the burning ended and his mind is settled, his skin is golden and his hair has curled back into its typical rats nest and he feels like himself, though, in a way that now feels wrong.

He let out a shuddering breath, ashamed of how much such a small thing affected him. He looked back up to Snape. “Thank you, Professor. I guess I’ll see you... later.” Harry made his way to the door, stopping himself before he left. He turned, back against the door, and cleared his throat, not wanting to look as awkward as he knew very well he would. “Professor, If- I wouldn’t have a problem with it, if you wanted to still call me Ursa. Outside of class, of course.” 

At that, Harry left, sincerely wishing he could disappear entirely, but not before he heard a ‘thank you, Ursa’ from inside. 

  
  


Poppy Pomfrey didn’t particularly expect Harry to come back to the medical wing. She knew the truth Severus would give the boy, if he would talk to him at all, and she knew it couldn’t be easy to take. Even she was still in a bit of a shock. 

She had always had a soft spot for Severus, she cared for him during his school years, healing cuts and bruises from his encounters with the Marauders and fractures from what she knew very well to be his father during the summer. The fact that she was powerless to help him, not without going over Dumbledore’s head, had hurt her immensely. He had come to her again after he left Hogwarts, confiding in him when he learned he was pregnant. Seeing him then, so young and so scared, and after the attack on Godric's Hollow, covered in ash and tears. She held onto him, the only one willing to acknowledge him as they removed the bodies. She would always be looking after him, even now she couldn’t help it, he was like her own child. 

It almost felt fitting that Harry would be his child, she had felt the same way to him as she had to Severus during his school days, feeding him nutrition potions after breaks and caring for him after his many mishaps during the school year, doing her best to help without Dumbledore’s interference. These two, the troubles they had. 

“Madam Pomfrey?” She heard from the door, a very Harry Potter looking Harry Potter walking in to the ward, obviously still exhausted after his little expedition to the dungeons. She ushered him in and back to the bed she had left open for him, urging him to lie down. 

“So, have you gotten the explanation you wanted, Mr. Potter?” She asked, watching him warily as he seemed to sink into the bed. 

“I think so,” he looked up at the ceiling, “Though, I think it’s Black, now.” 

“Would you like me to call you that?” 

It took him a moment to answer, biting his lip, “Yes please, at least while it’s just me.”

“No problem, Mr. Black.” She gave him a smile, knowing this couldn’t be easy, “Now get some rest, you’re still exhausted from the ritual.”

  
  


Ron Weasley was scared out of his mind. He had been the one to find Harry, close to passing out in their dorm, cold and rambling to himself, and had dragged him to the medical wing, handing him off to Pomfrey before being forced out and back to the tower. It had been a whole had and Harry wasn’t back. 

This wasn’t exactly unheard of, Harry’s trips to the infirmary usually lasted a couple of days, but Ron hadn’t even been able to go see him and dinner had already passed. 

Heading into his dorm room, he was gonna head straight to sleep when he almost tripped over some stupid book. He picked it up, feeling the leather and sighed. It was that journal Harry’s been keeping around lately. It gave him weird vibes somehow, so he threw it on to Harry’s bed for when he got back and went to his own, trying to get some sleep so he could visit the infirmary in the morning.

  
  


Severus Snape worked very hard to that night to find a solution to Ursa’s appearance problems, mostly to give himself something to focus on besides his own panic and grief and  _ feelings.  _ He tried not to feel overly sentimental when he picked an old ring to enchant, no matter where he had acquired the ring, it was the only one he had and it was the least likely piece of jewelry to be noticed. That was all.

He spent all night going back and forth between tweaking the glamour and trying it on, feeling extremely awkward having the look in the mirror and see Harry Potter staring back at him, but finally he had it finished. It was a little off, the eyes were a bit too dark and his hair a bit too fluffy, but it was nothing anyone sans Harry himself would notice. He allowed himself a nights rest before he went to give the ring to Ursa in the morning, allowing himself some semblance of a break between emotional episodes. 

Severus slept about as restlessly as usually, tossing and turning through dark dreams he could never remember. Waking up, hot coffee waiting by his bedside courtesy of the house elves, he almost regret falling asleep in the first place. 

He gave himself a moment to drink his coffee and let his mind come to life before getting ready for the day, pointedly ignoring the ring on his bedside table while he got up to shower and dress. Today would be long and tiring and he would rather not start it off too early. 


End file.
